Falsely Crowned Thy King
by Lady Peppermint
Summary: Molly's a queen, Moriarty's a king, Sherlock's trouble and John is his shape shifting comrade or otherwise known as Mother. AU, the ultimate great game, but who will have the checkmate? Eventual Sherlolly and Bromance Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Twelve year old Molly sat expectantly in front of her full length mirror while her mother sat behind her on a wooden stool braiding the an intricate braid down her spine. The little girl gripped the white satin of her dress in both terror and barely contained excitement as the braid was easily finished and a small silver tiara was placed upon her brunette hair. Molly grinned up at her beautiful mother, the Queen of Conan, with all the love a small child could ever possess.

"Now, do you remember what I told you, my love?" Her mother asked softly, her perfect, red lips quirking prettily as she smiled.

Molly nodded quickly and shyly, causing her crown to dip slightly. "A Queen is always polite and to the point, never dawdling in word or context. Her first priority is to her people and husband, the King. She must be honest and virtuous in all things, and… and…" She paused and scrunched her face up in confusion. "I've forgotten." She admitted at last catching her mother's eyes apologetically.

The Queen laughed and placed a gentle kiss upon her daughter's head. "But above all else, a Queen must remain true to herself and what she believes, even when she stands alone." She finished quickly and fixed the falling tiara.

"Now, I believe we have a party in need of our presence." The Queen stated her smile still in place upon her perfect face. She smoothed her emerald gown and stood straightening her back and raising her chin she transformed from Molly's mother into the rightful Queen of Conan. Molly mirrored her mother as she'd been taught since her royal birth and straitened her shoulders and neck. Both walked with ease into the ivory hallway where they were greeted by Mrs. Hudson, the Queen's personal maidservant and secret friend, who was a woman not much older than Her Majesty. Her white collar was starched flat while her black dress was without wrinkles.

"Maladies'," She said politely nodding and sending a wink at Molly while her mother wasn't looking. Molly quickly stifled her giggles and the trio made their way to the grand staircase where an orchestra's music wafted up to Molly's ears. She felt her heart pick up pace and steeled one last deep breath before walking down the steps after her mother's announced arrival.

"Presenting her Royal Majesty, Princess Margaret, daughter of our beloved King and Queen of Conan," Molly fought the rush of blood to her head as the subjects of her parents all turned to face her as she entered. Swallowing the rising bile she forced a smile onto her face and quickly followed her parents to the throne room where other men and women were dancing together. She sat poised on her own seat while her Father took her Mother's hands and led her into a waltz across the cream colored marble floor.

Molly resisted the urge to slouch and rest her head on one hand as the extravaganza grew on.

"It's honestly boring, isn't it." The statement, rather than a question, startled Molly out of her stupor and she fastened her eyes on the shadowy figure leaning against the wall near her chair. He was a boy, perhaps a year or two her senior, with curly black hair that hung wild and loose on his head. The clothes he wore were simple though not common and fit his young long-limbed body well enough; she suspected he must at least be the son of a noble or visiting diplomat. His slightly slanted blue eyes briefly met Molly's for a split second before returning to the celebrations around them.

"May I ask who you are?" Said Molly, slightly taken aback by this mysterious boy's sudden appearance.

"Who is never the important question but as to why would be better. Names mean nothing except pointless titles and letters. Idiotic in my opinion." He muttered a deep frown forming on his porcelain features.

"Names are important, or else we'd all refer to each other as mister and missus without and there'd be nothing to separate us as individuals." Molly snapped both intrigued and infuriated by the boy's lack of manners.

"Oh please, look, here I'll show you." He quickly scanned the room before pointing to wear a few noblemen and women stood chatting.

"See that woman with the black mole on her left cheek? She's having an affair with the Duke of Crenton to her left, all unbeknownst to her husband on the right." The boy saw Molly about to protest and quickly silenced her with another spout of fast sentences.

"How do I know, you ask? Well she's been trying to get away from her husband for the past hour from what I've seen and while she's been not so subtly touching the Duke's arm every few minutes, she has avoided all possible contact with her husband unless absolutely necessary. Not to mention the Duke accidently brushing against her breasts while reaching for a passing platter of drinks. Honestly their just groping each other in public, it's just disgusting." He wrinkled his nose while Molly was left speechless and could only stare between him and the dignitaries in shock.

The boy finally turned to face Molly when she hadn't spoken after a moment and sighed.

"Fine then, I suppose you wish me to leave." He turned abruptly and started to walk away until Molly finally found her voice and called him back.

"Wait! Please don't leave, you're the first person I've actually held a conversation with all night. It was getting boring until you showed up." She admitted bashfully. Sherlock looked down for a moment looking almost bothered, but when he regarded her again he held a wary smile on his face.

"You're the first person who hasn't told me to piss off tonight." He relented. His use of profanity stunned Molly for a second before she burst into a fit of giggles.

"Do you think you could do that trick again?" Molly asked trying not to sound too eager. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

"Thinking and observing is what it requires, but to answer your question, no I don't think I can, I know I can." And with that, the two spent the rest of the evening with Molly pointing at different couples and the mystery boy finding their weaknesses and darkest secrets.

"Sherlock!" Someone cried out instigating both Molly and the boy to look around to where a young man in his late teen years came striding towards them. The boy groaned and rolled his eyes at Molly and she gave him a confused smile.

"Sherlock, I thought I told you to stay put? You're not even allowed to be here." The teenager caught sight of Molly and he instantly became stark white and pointed a shaking finger down at the boy, whether it was trembling from fear or rage, Molly didn't know. "Sherlock, I swear if you've upset her majesty in any way-"

"Oh, please Mycroft. I was just showing her who these pompous idiots were." The boy, Sherlock, grumbled slouching even lower where he sat on the throne steps next to Molly. Mycroft became even more livid and his face began to pucker. Had she not felt in trouble, Molly would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Mycroft reached down and pulled on Sherlock's ear, compelling him to stand.

"You are in trouble, Sherlock. You nearly gave mum a heart attack!" The elder brother exclaimed.

"Oh for God's sake, Mycroft, I was only having a bit of fun." Sherlock cried in exasperation. Mycroft threw his hand back and clouted Sherlock across the cheek. The sound reverberated between the three of them and Molly winced as she felt sympathetic pain stretch across her own cheek. Sherlock glanced down to bite his lip, but not before Molly saw the tears well up in his beautiful eyes. Mycroft looked beside himself, torn between guilt and doing what was expected of him. Finally he let out a long sigh and lowered his head into his hands, displaying a barely noticeable thinning hairline.

"Just-just come along, Sherlock. We need to be leaving." With that said Mycroft turned and bowed to Molly before turning on his heal and marching away. Sherlock followed stoically, albeit a trifle teary, as well.

"Goodbye, Sherlock." Molly said mournfully, expecting the lanky, dark haired boy to ignore her and move on, but he paused and twirled to face her one last time. An expression mixed between bitterness and resolve screwed up his face until he looked like he might cry again. With an exhalation he relaxed and became nonchalant and cool.

"Goodbye, Molly." He said, and if his voice had not broken slightly, she would have thought him angry at her, but instead he was just as sad at their parting as she was. For a moment he was standing in front of her and the second she blinked he was nothing more than a retreating figure amidst the swirling crowd.

"Well that was melodramatic, wasn't it?" Molly nearly jumped out of her skin and wondered what it was with boys and just appearing without invitation.

"Hello, cousin." Molly said becoming tranquil once more an offered a civil smile at her older cousin and arranged fiancée, though she did not personally approve of the latter. James Moriarty grinned and bowed in an almost mocking manner, his sneer staying in place throughout the action.

"I believe it would be proper for us to dance, if you're not too busy playing with peasants." Moriarty smirked and Molly had to fight the disgust she felt not to show on her face.

"Thank you for the offer, James, that is very gracious of you." She spat out.

"Then you accept." Said Moriarty, already grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly and unwillingly onto the marble flooring and into the sway-like music. He talked during the entire evening about this and that and all Molly could do was be pulled along in his iron grip. She suddenly couldn't wait for the evening to be over.


	2. Chapter 2: A Kiss of Poison

Author's Notes: Wow, thanks to all of you who reviewed, faved, and followed my story!

apedarling: Aw, thank you! Yeah, teen!lock was interesting to write! ^^

Freewaygirl: Updated! :)

Alexandria Keating: I'm glad you like it, where I'm taking this is still a little hard to see in detail, but I garentee ya'll will like it. :D

trinicutiegal: Aw, you are too sweet girl! Or gal I should say. ;) You're not babbling, in fact your review absolutely made my day. I'm glad you think my work is good. *hug*

Nicolive: And to the first person to review, thank you so much for clicking on my story! I'm glad you noticed the reference. Lol! But may I ask what SACD is? I guess I'm a little slow as to what that means. :S

Now! Onto the story! Oh, and please review, the more reviews I get the faster I update, even if it's just a few words! :3

**Chapter 2: A Kiss of Poison**

James Moriarty stood outside the castle grounds of Conan, a cloak covering his face from wondering eyes, and a darkened look of significance painted on his face. He easily side stepped the commotion of passersby's and travelers alike and moved into a small alleyway out of the sight of others. He leaned against the cracked bricks and pulled out a knife to clean out the dirt under his nails that had been bothering him.

"Hello, there stranger." A cool, feminine voice sounded nearby, but Moriarty didn't even glance up.

"You're late," He reasoned calmly, "and you know how I hate to be kept waiting." The woman chuckled mirthlessly and stepped into full view for Moriarty to see her better. Her dark ebony hair was tied into a bun while a dark blue coat covered her from neck to knee. Her equally dark eyes glittered dangerously while her ruby mouth bore an elegant smirk.

"I apologize, but I'd prefer to call it being fashionably late. Only normal people are ever just 'late'."

"Either way," Jim said with an uninterested tone, putting the knife back into its leather sheath. "Did you bring it?" He asked, meeting the woman's gaze with an equivalent glare. She smiled fiercely, her white teeth a stark contrast to the blood of her lips.

"Oh, yes. I had to go through an old magician and his apprentice for it, poor old fools." She pulled out a small clear vile that held a strange black liquid in its content. Jim grinned and reached for it only to find it not in his reach any more.

"Ah-ah-ah! Where's your end of the deal, Moriarty?" She waved a finger in his face and acted as if she was talking to a child. Moriarty scowled and extended his hand back into his cloak to extract a long, slender pin encrusted with jewels and precious metals. The top held a laughing Chinese dragon wrapped around the pin's entirety.

"The Dagger's Pin, just as you asked, now hand over the poison, Ms. Irene Adler." Jim said with distaste.

"My, my, using my full name, are we? You must be displeased." Irene teased, but she complied and handed the vile to Moriarty, who in turn gave her the hair pin.

"What are you going to use the venom on the pin for? It's not like you need it." Jim asked his curiosity piqued. Irene smiled a little wider, just barely showing the tips of her fangs.

"Oh, one never knows what one might need with a poisoned object, but like you I have business that needs to be finished. And who knows," She carefully applied the pin to her bun, "this could come in handy one of these days." With that said, Irene dug her sharp nails into the brick wall and easily scaled up to the rooftop. She looked back down at Jim, nothing more than a black silhouette against the sunset.

"Until we meet again, Moriarty," And she was gone from his vision.

Molly sat with her hands clasped in her lap as trays of food were brought into the dining hall, each one a delicacy from different lands per her request.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Her mother whispered next to her, her hands grasping Molly's for just a second enough to give it a quick squeeze. Molly smiled brightly, her face flushed with jubilation. Becoming fifteen was a big step, after all. The teenager looked around the room at her visiting family, ranging from aunt to uncle and cousin to cousin, including Moriarty who sat presently across from her looking bored.

A graying Mrs. Hudson waved subtly at Molly from where she stood near the entry way, her eyes alight with happy tears. Greg Lestrade, Captain of the Guard, stood with a few of his other soldiers around the entire hall, but he offered a quick, sincere smile to the girl as well. As soon as the meal was settled the King stood and clapped his hands together to silence the chatter of the dignitaries before raising his wine glass.

"It is a great honor to have you all here this evening," He began, his voice rumbling and easily traveling to those at the far end. "I could not ask for better family and friends to be at my side, and I could not have asked for a more beautiful and extraordinary daughter." He smiled at Molly who easily returned the favor. "God has blessed this kingdom and me well, but tonight is not about me or politics or even the kingdom directly. Tonight is about a coming of age from a young girl to a marvelous queen, one who will rule once both I and Angela, my wife, are gone.

"Margaret, Molly, my beautiful daughter, you have always been a queen. I can see how good you are by the everyday acts you do and know that when you one day wear the crown, you will rule with a pure heart. Happy birthday, my love."

"Happy Birthday," Molly's family chorused before taking a sip of their wine. It was Molly's first try of alcohol so she drank only a small amount in weariness. The sweet liquid went easily down her throat and left a grape aftertaste in her mouth. Deciding she liked it, Molly took an even deeper drink only to have her mother tap her lightly on the arm.

"Be careful, dear, we can't have you drunk within the first five minutes of dinner. Pace yourself." Her mother advised, chuckling as she did so. Molly laughed sheepishly and set her cup back on the table while a few servants came from around all sides of the room to set dishes in front of the patrons. After a while Molly sat back contentedly, but did not slouch, and gently sipped from her wine once more. She was about to ask her mother something, what it was she never did remember, when all of the sudden her father started to cough violently, his whole body shaking and his face completely crimson.

"Aster? Aster!" Her mother exclaimed immediately by his side and trying to pound him on the back. "He's choking! Call the doctor, he's dying, dear God in Heaven he's dying!" Her mother cried.

"It's like something's burning inside of me!" The king groaned his face paling to a deathly white.

"Poison, its poison, no one touch the food or drink!" One of Molly's uncles said, immediately backing away from the table. The entire hall was in a state of disarray as some immediately ran trying to get out of the castle itself and back to their homes while others merely fainted in fright. Jim Moriarty had to fake a choking gag behind a napkin to hide an eerie smile forming on his face.

Molly's mother started to cough up blood as she scratched at her throat as if she was suffocating.

"Mama, Papa? Please don't die, don't leave me." Molly sobbed, softly beating her fists on her Father's already still chest.

Mrs. Hudson firmly pulled Molly's shaking form to her feet and rushed her from the room.

"No, no I can save them! I can save them, Mrs. Hudson!" Molly said angrily trying to push away from the maid. In reply the older woman quickly faced Molly and took her head in her hands to look her directly in the eye.

"They're gone, Molly. I'm sorry but they're gone." Her voice shook and cracked and Molly could only feel the tears that slipped quietly down her cheeks.

"They are gone." Mrs. Hudson repeated before openly sobbing and pulling Molly into a warm embrace.

Jim watched from the doorway of the now empty dining hall, besides the dead royalty. He smirked maliciously, everything was falling into place.


	3. Chapter 3: Knock and Enter

Chapter 3: Knock and Enter

To all those who reviewed and faved and followed, you are my heroes and inspiration! I had to cut this short due to length and the fact I've been sick and trying to get classes settled for next year. Please read and review and offer advice with ideas in you have any! Thanks y'all!

DM

Molly stood in her room, silent and unmoving as stone, while Mrs. Hudson slid white satin and silk over her skin. Her eyes didn't water and her body never trembled even once, if she didn't blink every so often Mrs. Hudson would have believed her to be standing dead.

"I thought brides were usually happy on their wedding days." Mrs. Hudson said in hopes of lightening the dark mood of the room. Molly didn't even look up, but she shook her head in answer.

"No, not for this wedding." She whispered half-heartedly.

"Well, that's a shame; I always personally thought you looked beautiful with a smile. And who doesn't love a smiling bride?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Moriarty," Said Molly sardonically, "it won't matter for him whether I smile, cry, or scream. He's still marrying me no matter what."

Mrs. Hudson sighed, but pushed the subject more. Her wrinkled hands smoothed dress fabric once more before stepping away and admiring the girl in front of her.

"Well, I do believe we have a bride!" Mrs. Hudson left the room quietly so as not to disturb Molly. Said bride glanced upwards at last and gazed at the beauty reflected in the mirror. Her dress was white and floor length, traditional in most cases, a swooping V-neck that left everything and nothing to the imagination with a white strip of satin ribbon gliding around her middle. At her mid-section the fabric sprayed out with individual folds in the fabric creating a water fall effect. Molly's shoulders remained bare except for her hair that was let loose and curled in ringlets and waves down to her hips. She looked like her mother.

"No, don't think that. Don't you dare go there." Molly growled to herself. Unwinding her tense shoulders Molly took the hand stitched and embroidered veil and gingerly applied it to her head, wishing for a way to hide forever.

A soft tapping at the door awoke Molly from her reverie and she quickly assembled both her emotions and expression. Answering quickly Molly met two very large brown eyes, she smiled warmly.

"Hello, Lady Donavon," Molly quickly bade the female warrior to come in and shut the door firmly behind her.

"Your Majesty," Donavon answered slightly tersely. Molly's eyebrows quirked upward and she frowned.

"I've told you to call me Molly, Dona. Or at least call me Margaret if all else fails." The soldier merely shook her head of black curls and placed a rough hand on the sword hanging from her hip.

"It won't matter either way seeing as you are being married and this will officially make you a queen, to say otherwise would be inappropriate. And I'd rather not have Captain Lestrade on my case about it." She grimaced. Molly sighed but nodded her consent and quickly marched out the door.

"Well, let's get this over with." She muttered darkly. Both soldier and bride walked outside and down the steps and to the steel, mechanical horse drawn carriage.

"He's certainly one for showing power isn't he?" Molly said, Donavon purely shrugged and remained mute. Releasing an inward groan Molly gripped the frame of the door and stepped into the bearing before sitting down. Donavon shut the door and stepped back as the steel vehicle pulled away down the cobblestone walk way.

"If only you knew how much power he has." Donavon whispered before turning abruptly and walking back into the giant doors, her hair flashing in the dim light.

Most girls would appreciate a handsome husband, as well as one who was so rich in comparison, but not Molly. She hated the rock that rested on her ring finger, she hated the ceremony, but most of all she hated her new husband.

Molly now sat in the dining hall with Jim Moriarty on her right side and a plate of uneaten food in front of her.

"Shouldn't you eat something? You're practically wasting away in front of me." Moriarty mused lightly. "However," His hand slid up her thigh seductively and she stiffened under his touch. "I would hate for you to lose your figure. " His sight-seeing hand entered the inside of her thigh and Molly quickly stood, her chair toppling over behind her and the startled gazes of nobles finding her shaking figure.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She hissed venomously at a bemused Moriarty.

"Trust me, tonight I'll have you on your back screaming for more." Moriarty whispered back, lust bright in his eyes and a hungry grin on his face. She paled considerably and had to lean on the table. She parted her lips to reply but was saved from doing so as the dining halls erupted open and a very angry Captain of the Guard marched in hot on the heels of a stranger in a black coat with a deep blue scarf waving behind him and an ebony staff in his hands.

"Your Majesties, I am so sorry for the disruption but this bastard refuses to listen to us!" Lestrade growled, his fist clenching and unclenching at his sides and made him look ready to punch the new visitor.

"Really, Captain, over a hundred guards and you can't keep out one single man? Shame, shame." Moriarty smoothly snipped at the slightly flustered captain.

"Honestly, you might want to heighten your defenses, it was rather embarrassing." The stranger commented, his deep, baritone voice sending shivers down Molly's spine. Something about the man seemed familiar, from his curly black hair to the frosted green of his eyes.

A slight sound resembling squeaking started spastically and quickly ended once the man flicked his shoulder lightly with a scowl.

"And, what may we ask, is you name?" Moriarty asked impatiently a frown etched into his features.

The stranger looked uninterested when he answered not only Moriarty's question, but also Molly's.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and I am your new footman."


	4. Chapter 4: A Ghost in the Water

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and I am the new footman." Sherlock replied smoothly, the moment his name had been said Molly's eyes widened with recognition as the memory of that fateful night returned to mind.

"I am in no need of your service, now if you would kindly lea-"

"He could be my footman." Molly interrupted, shocking both Moriarty and Sherlock out of their small glaring competition.

"Pardon?" Moriarty asked frowning. Molly walked around Sherlock studying his physique and facial features in the process, all of which were damn attractive.

"Think of it as a late wedding present, my love." Molly said seductively, eyeing a slightly troubled albeit pleased Moriarty.

"One doesn't wish to argue with one's queen. Very well, Lestrade!" Moriarty yelled gruffly at a pissed captain who walked up to James and saluted in reply.

"Take Mr. Holmes to the servant quarters to meet Mrs. Hudson and arrange his sleeping area." Bowing Captain Lestrade walked briskly passed Sherlock, muttering, "Come along, then."

Once the two were out of sight Moriarty turned to the table of still confused dignitaries.

"And now I feel it is time we bade you all goodnight. So, in other words," He chuckled mirthlessly, "Get out." His eyes narrowed darkly and the party goers wasted no time in removing themselves from the hall. Though a few did humph loudly while walking past him.

Without another word Moriarty lashed out and grabbed hold of Molly's wrist pulling her towards the main corridor and up the flight of stairs leading to the west wing of the castle.

"Wh-what are you doing? Where are you taking me, Moriarty?!" Molly spluttered angrily, her free hand trying desperately to unhinge his tight grip.

"To where all newlyweds eventually find themselves. You didn't honestly think I was going to marry you and not get something out if it?" He laughed harshly, cruelly even. He jerkily pushed Molly's bedroom door open and flung her carelessly on the bed, his eyes raked over her heaving body with obvious hunger.

"And don't even think I won't use you to my entire advantage." He hissed his hands pulling crudely at his neck tie. Loosening his shirt a little more he advanced upon Molly who crawled as far away from him as she could until her back hit the headboard.

"Don't make this hard darling, you'll only hurt yourself." He purred huskily. His right hand reached to cradle her face but she slapped it away harshly, curling herself from him. Moriarty snarled and whipped both hands out and grabbed both her shoulders and pushing her down until she was beneath him. Molly's brown eyes widened in fear of the beast that lay atop her, his teeth gnashing in rage.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He growled warningly. Moriarty lifted her up once more and twisted her away from him until she was facing the headboard. He didn't bother with the ribbon Mrs. Hudson had spent an hour tying and cinching around her waist. His fingers were now claws as they ripped the satin from her skin and flung it upon the floor before his mouth attacked her neck and bare shoulder. She could feel the large bulge between his thighs and stomach pressing into her with every thrust.

Moriarty quickly removed his pants as well as Molly's petticoat and stockings, his strong arms lifted her placed her before him as she was looked him in the eyes with fear, hatred, and disgust.

"Oh, don't look at me that way, Dear Molly. Be honored that I'd even look at someone as foul as you." He sneered, Molly's temper snapped and she scraped her finger nails across his face, drawing blood.

"You bitch!" Moriarty swore his hands freeing themselves from her to cradle his wound. "You'll regret that." He snarled, thrusting himself into her.

Molly's mouth was opened in a silent scream Moriarty took her name, her innocence and her being into his own, forcing her to come to him as her body betrayed her and the girl she once was remained no more.

At some point he left her, once it was all finished, most likely to have someone look at the cuts on his face. She quietly lay staring at the ceiling once he'd left, she still was unsure whether she was dosing or in shock. When all remained silent, she extricated herself from the bed and gently felt over herself, wincing when she came across a bruise or injured area. Luckily there was nothing broken or as serious as what she had given Moriarty.

Molly shivered; even thinking his name caused her to quake in fear. _'But it doesn't have to be that way._' A voice in her head reasoned, _'you could just end it all.'_ She tried to shake the idea from her head but it refused to leave her. It would be nice; she could leave Moriarty for good, and this entire evil world… _'See your parents again.' _The voice added.

"Mama." She whispered to the empty room. Standing, Molly walked to the bathroom and turned on the light in advance to closing the bathroom door and locking it. The white, porcelain tub that rose to her mid waist sat to the left of her and she reached over to turn the handles.

Hot water streamed out the hose, filling the tub quickly and saturating the room with steam. Once the cask was filled substantially Molly stepped over the side and slid into the sweltering water. She slowly allowed her body to become used to temperature before sliding further into the water.

Exhaling slowly her head finally dipped below the water line. She closed her eyes and anxiously waited as the feeling of discomfort one gets when one cannot breathe filled her with a burning desire for air. Molly forced herself to remain still and ignore the need of oxygen, her eyesight growing fainter and darker with each second.

"Stop Molly." Molly's eyes snapped opened and she inhaled. Bad mistake. She sat up coughing and spluttering, water streaming down her face and out her nose. Wiping at her eyes, Molly looked around wondering where the voice had come from.

"Feeling slightly unnerved and irked she started to lower herself into the water once more the voice stopped her again.

"It's generally polite to stop when someone says stop you know." The voice spoke, causing Molly's neck to snap forward once again and look into a pair of bored, familiar blue eyes.  
Shrieking Molly stood up to clamber away but her foot slipped on a bar of soap and she clumsily slipped sideways and hit her head hard, knocking her out completely.

Sherlock sat slightly confused and puzzled at what had just occurred.

"Well, damn." He sighed. John's nose poked out from under Sherlock's collar and sniffed around before pulling his head out completely. The brown mouse looked down at Molly's sprawled form and back up at Sherlock before whipping his tail at the detective's cheek.

Sherlock flinched and glared at the mouse that jumped from Sherlock's shoulder and in midair changed into his normal, human form.

"You know, for once I'd prefer to not play doctor on your escapades." John huffed, kneeling to look at the unconscious woman's injured head.

"It wasn't my fault!" Sherlock whined in exasperation, his arms spread out to his sides. "How the bloody hell was I supposed to know she was going to react that way?" He argued, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at his shoes that had suddenly become very interesting. John's mouth gaped open like a traumatized gold fish before shutting the together in a thoughtful, notwithstanding anger, purse.

"Well, Sherlock," John emphasized the name, "how would you feel if you were in the bathtub and all the sudden someone appears right before your own bloody eyes out of thin air?" John asked in frustration.

"I don't know, but certainly not the way she would have. It would be illogical." Sherlock mused. John sighed in defeat knowing he'd never get far with the argument.

"Whatever just help me get her back into the bedroom so I can address the wound better." He replied, already lifting Molly up by her underarms, careful not to touch her in an unnecessary way, and nodded for Sherlock to do the same.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but cradled his arms under Molly's knees and lower back help support her properly. John gently kicked the door open and shuffled into the bedroom with Molly and Sherlock close behind. The two men positioned Molly onto the bed before standing back to assess their work.

"We need to dress her." John said suddenly. Sherlock eyed his friend curiously.

"Why? It's nothing you haven't seen before." He questioned. The doctor sighed in frustration and kneaded the bridge of his nose between two knuckles.

"Because it's wrong, Sherlock, morally, socially, and all around wrong. Now help me find some clothes."

After only moments of searching Sherlock rested his hands on his hips in disgruntlement.

"I have no idea where any of this goes." He admitted at which John felt like screaming a few profanities.

"And I suppose you think I should?" He asked in bewilderment. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, "You and I both know you've undressed far more women than I have, John." Sherlock said innocently.

"One of these days I'm just going to punch you senseless." John muttered, but he didn't push the matter. "Here, I've got a robe; it's simple and will cover her." Sherlock offered the garment and the good doctor took it, slipping Molly's arms through it before tying it around her waist.

"Help me prop her up on some pillows so I can slide the robe down farther and look properly at her head. Heaven help you if you gave her a concussion." He warned. Sherlock didn't argue but smiled softly at his friend's gruffness, doing as he was told.

While John evaluated the dent Sherlock had involuntarily given Molly's skull, the detective placed a small white envelope into the crescent of her hand, barely squeezing it in reassurance, whether of him or for her, he wasn't quite sure.

"Come on, Sherlock, we need to leave." John said, placing his needle and thread away and the cloth used to clean the stitches. Sherlock nodded and his friend quickly changed back into a mouse and climbed Sherlock's legs, torso, and finally coming to a rest on his shoulder.

Not saying a word or offering a backward glance, he swiftly evaporated from the room, leaving a slumbering Molly oblivious to all events.


	5. Chapter 5: A Time and a Place

Replies to Comments:

Snarkland78: I'm glad you like it thus far! More has come, the wait is over! ^^ Your icon made my laugh btw, lol

Alexandria Keating: That chapter was honestly one of the hardest I've ever written, I'm glad you think I pulled it off! 'J

Guest: I loved the idea of Mouse!John. Rest assured I was tempted to make him a hedgehog! LOL! But that comes later in the story. ^*^

Arty Diane: Yeah, I feel bad about putting her through so much. But don't worry things will look up for her!

Freewaygirl: I want to honestly kill Jimmy right now, but he's too important to the story…and he's dang hot…so yeah I have to keep him. Punching comes later though. *Hint Hint*

Second daughter of Eve: The chapter or with what Molly's dealing with? :/ Maybe both, haha.

Also, I'm sorry about the delay school is a pain and I got sick with spring fever… how the heck did that happen? Ugh. But my 16th birthday is tomorrow and I would love love love love LOVE some reviews as presents. 030 please… Anyhoo, on with the story!

Molly dreamed. She dreamed of a man standing over with dark, brooding eyes. Dark curls brushed against his curls and his frosted green eyes bore into her hazel globes with interest. _Who are you? _She wanted to ask but no sound exited her lips. The dark angel reached out a slender hand as if to brush his fingers against her cheek but paused midway.

_"Molly" _The word brushed against her ears in a deep whisper, her eyes napped open and Molly sat up. Light flooded threw the bay windows of her room and Molly found herself completely alone. Running her hand through her hair Molly was surprised to find her satin robe wrapped around her. Rubbing the soft material between her forefinger and thumb she whispered, "Strange, I don't remember dressing…" she frowned in confusion, not able to recall the happenings of the previous night. What did return to her mind brought bile and bitterness to her mouth and she grimaced.

A sharp rapping sounded at her door and Molly snapped out of her reverie.

"Please give me a moment!" She called. Tightening the robe's sash around her waist, Molly walked to the door and opened it to reveal a startling site. The man from Molly's dream gave Molly a look of insignificance and irrelevance, his eyes were dark with contempt as he stalked passed her and into the bedroom.

"May I help you?" Molly asked, slightly startled by his sudden appearance and bustling manner.

"I'm here," he said without even glancing Molly's way he began to place clothes from the wardrobe onto the bed, "for Lord Moriarty. I'm his footman, remember? If I remember correctly you were present when I introduced myself." The man, Sherlock-Molly remembered his name, said without much emotion.

"Well I'm not sure if you remember but I happen to be second in command here and I don't appreciate your attitude. Jim is my husband," she said sardonically, "and I'm not quite sure where he is, he hasn't returned since very early this morning."

Sherlock nodded, "I see." He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know what to do." He admitted to Molly who softened slightly at his lost tone of voice.

"Maybe you can actually help me get ready for the day?" She offered kindly. Sherlock looked at her before nodding briefly.

"Very well." He agreed. Molly, not quite sure how to deal with a footman either, had Sherlock pick out her clothes for the day and draw her bath. When he was done with that she asked him to sit to the side in one of her favorite chairs while she bathed.

Molly sat in her tub, not a few hours after she had been in the same place before, and soaked in the frothy bubbles that enveloped her. She counted the corners of every tile that covered the bathroom ceiling and then moved on to count the cracks, her mind still processing the mysterious Sherlock Holmes.

Carefully stepping out of the tub Molly wrapped her body in a large white towel and walked into the bedroom where Sherlock immediately stood up. Molly faltered, embarrassed by his presence and her vulnerability.

"Erm, if you could turn around for a moment I'll get dressed in my… my underwear and you can help me with the corset and dress." It was almost a question, if not a plea, but Sherlock did as he was asked without comment.

Quickly pulling the shirt slip over her head and tying the bloomers in at the waist Molly kept her eyes and the tall looming figure in front of her for fear of him turning around when she was so exposed. She didn't need two men seeing the whole kitten caboodle.

"You may turn around now, Mr. Holmes." Molly squeaked less than dignifiedly, her face flushed a deep scarlet. Sherlock turned his face impassive and bored looking as he grabbed her lace corset off the bed comforter. Taking a step toward her Sherlock's foot caught on the discarded towel and he lurched unexpectedly forward as his ankle snapped painfully sideways making Sherlock gasp in pain while his face contorted in shock.

He tried to grab onto something and regain his balance but to no avail, gravity held no mercy. Molly watched in horror as he lunged toward her where she met him half way in an attempt to catch him. Not expecting him to be so heavy she fell backwards with him in her arms as they fell and made an excruciating impact with the carpet. The wind was knocked out of Molly's chest as the floor and Sherlock's surprisingly sharp head smashed into her chest.

Sherlock groaned and dared to open his only to find it actually quite dark, moist, and not unpleasantly warm. Releasing a breath he found his air way slightly blocked but otherwise undisturbed, he dragged his head upwards slightly causing his nose to rub along the soft fabric. His ears perked when he heard a sharp intake of breath and he looked up to see two very startled brown eyes.

All his life Sherlock had been told that there were many places his sharp nose did not belong. He imagined the breasts of a woman were one of them…

End Part One

Haha, awkward Sherlock is awkward.

See y'all soon.

God Bless


	6. Chapter 6: Hello, Goodbye, Piss Off

Molly remained motionless, as did Sherlock, while she tried to understand what, or rather who, had befallen her. One minute she had been trying to stay out of the way of her footman and somehow she had ended in a rather compromising situation. Dear Lord, it hadn't even been twenty-four hours and already she was taken by two men.

Sherlock meanwhile listened intently to how the queen's heart rate elevated and how she had started to tremble. _Not_ _arousal_, he concluded, _but fear_. Having never even been with a woman, much less than touched one if he could help it, Sherlock stood stalk still as if any sudden movement would send the creature into a spiraling panic attack.

"Could y-you possibly move t-to s-somewhere else?" Molly stammered, her voice a reaching a higher pitch than Sherlock though humanly possible. Without a word, the foot man stood, staring at anything other than Molly, whether out of respect for her privacy or his own, and dusted away invisible dirt from his shoulders. Molly fixed her dressing gown to hide anything that might have been showing, and stood shakily on her feet.

"I think that will be all for now, thank you." Molly spoke softly, not meeting Sherlock's gaze, only barely seeing him nod before walking stiffly to the door. He might have made it too, if Mrs. Hudson hadn't chosen that moment to open the door with breakfast in hand. Sherlock crumpled to the floor, his hands cradling his nose as guttural moans of pain escaped his parted lips.

Molly sighed inwardly, the day was going to be just bloody fantastic, and it wasn't even past nine in the morning.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"You do realize that you deserved this, right? After being such a wanker, are you trying to get us kicked out the kingdom?" John huffed as Sherlock winced and hissed under his experienced hands. After getting over the initial pain and shock of his wound and the fact that Mrs. Hudson had apologized innumerable amounts of times, Sherlock retreated downstairs to the servant's quarters where he was thoroughly chewed out by John.

Sherlock made no reply except a low growl and a white knuckled clench on his pants. "We promised, Mycroft," John continued, his touch gentler as he applied his fingers to the cleansed wound, "that we would keep the queen safe and an eye on the devil Moriarty. Close your eyes." Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut as John muttered a few words under his breath and a warm sensation flowed through his fingers and into Sherlock's tender skin. The cartilage snapped together once more and the bruising faded as blood dissipated into the blood stream.

Sherlock sighed as John removed his hands and opened his eyes. "Thank you." Sherlock murmured before standing and rubbing the slightly pink skin on his angular nose. John only snorted, but his eyes had softened into a warm brown color and the frown lines had disappeared around his mouth.

"Bugger," John smirked before crouching and changed into a hedgehog and climbing into Sherlock's waiting hands.

"I don't suppose you could have chosen something without quills?" Sherlock grimaced and cradled the creature into his pocket, the hedgehog huffed and squeaked in annoyance, but Sherlock swore he saw a smile curve into its furred features.

Walking into the dining hall and was met with the stares of his co-workers.

"Nice to see you finally joined us." A dark haired man spoke behind his cup of coffee. Sherlock instantly zeroed in on him and studied as if he were a specimen of great importance. Nicotine under the trimmed nails said smoker, hair and face clean and immaculate, not to mention posture precise and legs crossed.

"Queer." He smirked and watched as the man stiffened and paled.

"What did you say?" His voice not quite as confident as before, John nipped at his collar bone.

"Oh dear, I didn't see the time. Is that coffee brewing? Smells lovely." Sherlock was all smiles as he sat down and the dark haired man relaxed slightly, though his fingers trembled slightly.

"Yes, and I'm Anderson, you've met Thomas already." An oily, small built man stood from his chair and walked up to Sherlock looking him right in the eye before offering his hand. _Mid thirties, affair with one of the female soldiers, annoying, small IQ and heavy drinker_. All in all another idiot to forgrt and leave out of his mind palace. Sherlock nodded but offered no hand for the taking.

"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes." He brushed passed a stunned Anderson and sat down next to a petite young woman with ginger eyes, hair, and porcelain complexion except for the mole that donned her left cheek who watched the affair with great interest. _Gossip lover, sleeps with whoever offers, mildly attracted to me (dull), sly but obvious, __not to be trusted__._

"Kitty Riley, since you never asked." She purred and leaned closer to Sherlock who inched away. His lip curled in disgust, "That's because I never was considering it." Kitty pouted and pulled away, much to Sherlock's relief.

"Alright, dears, we have work to do so chop, chop!" Mrs. Hudson bustled in, her hands filled with trays of dirty dishes. For Sherlock, the day couldn't be over soon enough…

I am SO sorry for the delay! I've been dealing with girls camp and weight loss crap and then I got a wolf spider bite on my ankle which has swollen my leg to the size of California, so here is a peace offering. Again thank you to the reviews and favs, it truly makes my life a heaven. I am also working on a long Sherlolly one shot AU with a robot Sherlock, so yeah. It's angsty! ANyhoo, fave, review, love.

God Bless,

DM


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